Reprinted from 2003

Surprisingly warm for the mountains, day dawns in our campground.   Today my brother and his wife and their two teenage girls, my other brother and I climb Flattop Mtn. – 12,200 feet above sea level and an altitude change of 2000 feet over 4.5 miles.  Packing sandwiches, snacks, and water is quick as we need an early start in order to be able to hightail it off the peak before the afternoon thunderstorms hit.  My nieces had a dream to conquer a peak this year.  Boots, socks, packs, binoculars and cameras all strapped, tied, pulled or slung onto shoulders or feet (appropriately).  We stride out of the campground and hit the trail by 8:40.

My niece, Julie (not her real name),  has been diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder. I have very little idea what it’s like inside her mind and body, but outside it can show up as not focused, excessive worry about future or past events while trying to do a task, and heavy thoughts making heavy, slow footsteps.  Whatever it was, we knew her pace would keep us below timberline all day.  After the first half mile I took her hand and said, “You’ve got your rhythm, and it won’t get you up the mountain today. How about trying another one? Let’s sing, and you match my rhythm.”  She readily agreed (she’s wonderful about receiving support).  We sang and danced, “I’ve got rhythm, I’ve got music, I’ve got my man, Who could ask for anything more?”  “I’ve got hiking boots, I’ve got a trail, I’ve got my family, Who could ask for anything more?”   After a while Julie said she could do it on her own and she spent the next half hour in her new energetic, steady rhythm.  She leaned into that mountain.

At about noon we emerge above timberline. And oh, oh, oh, there are amazing stalks of pink elephant-head flowers blowing in the breeze; red and yellow Indian paintbrush, little purple moss campion hugging the lichen-speckled granite to avoid the wind.    The tundra is an explosion of color, of tiny plants, of adaptation to cold and wind, and rocks, rocks, rocks!  Mountains, valleys, lakes, streams nearly shout with their crisp edges and vivid shapes.

By 1:30 we reach the top!  My two nieces have conquered their first mountain! We flop down in the tremendous wind and devour the best sandwiches the world has ever tasted. The mountain decides that’s enough and throws a hailstorm at us and we scramble into ponchos that flutter like flags.  We begin the climb down.  I hear Julie tell her dad as we keep an eye on the lightning moving across the valley, “You know my disease – that schizo affective thing?  I conquered it today!”  She paused and added, “I can do my homework now.”

Moral of the Story:  An inner shift in perspective, or rhythm, or focus always changes outer results.  A coach joins you  on your journey to help shake your brain out of its patterned perspectives so you can see and achieve new results.  Also, a change in one area produces a change in other areas.  What other morals do you see?

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